Page 37 of Saving Pookie

But what if it's not his mouth?

What if it's something even more forbidden?

What if it's the way this straight boy, my new best friend, is looking at me as we're both getting the best head of our lives? What if it's not the head at all?

Braxton inches towards me, his lips trembling with the sexiest fucking little moans I think I've ever heard. I inch closer to him too, close enough until our noses brush against each other, until I can taste his breath on my lips, the same strawberry-minty freshness. Harsher, though. Tastes a little like a salty hunger.

"Pook—" He stops himself, his bottom lip parting and then closing. He chokes on something he can't quite bring himself to say. "Fuck." He grabs a handful of the flesh at my thighs. "I'm going to⁠—"

"Come?" I question, breathless. "You're gonna⁠—"

He cuts me off with a kiss, his lips sealed over mine. He clamps down, sucking at my bottom lip. Soft at first, and then harder. An earthquake builds within and trembles from my mouth, moans dancing on his wet lips. I close my eyes, giving in to whatever the fuck this is, and I swear I'm back at the club, dancing under the neon lights as Braxton grinds behind me. The touch of his fingers sends sparks of ecstasy through me—setting my skin on fire, kindled by something I think I'm too high to name.

"Fuckkkk," he cries into my mouth, his tongue flicking over mine. "I..."

Our kisses are somehow wetter than our dicks, messier too.

And then I'm breaking, coming down the back of Andy's throat. Braxton lets out a hot gasp, singing through his own orgasm, his moans dancing over my lips like the electronic beat of a remixed pop song.

We stay like this for a moment longer, our lips held together by nothing more than the strained weakness that follows release. My heart skips every other beat, and I think back to the very inappropriate thing my mom once told me when I was a young kid—that an orgasm is the closest most will ever come to a heart attack.

I feel a panic settle in.

A heart attack incoming.

Or at the very least, a heartbreak.

Because I don't want this night to end. This magical, drug-fueled, depraved night.

An hour later, Sienna is passed out in Braxton's bed while Andy is sprawled out on the couch, face down with his ass out. Braxton sits on the ground out on the balcony, wearing only his boxers. I take him a glass of ice-cold water, which he accepts graciously. He takes a long gulp, sets the glass down, and slaps his hand on the concrete.

I take a seat beside him, my body crying for sleep while the world inside my head is still spinning. I look out to the city, down below and high above. Millions of people, and in a post-drug haze, I consider how much of my life I've wasted. All these fucking people, and I wonder how many of them have the same regrets?

The sound of a lighter flicking steals my attention, and I glance over to find Braxton lighting a cigarette. He offers me the pack, and I shake my head.

"I don't smoke," I say, trying to hide my disdain. Cameron was a smoker. I'd say it was one of the worst things about him, but honestly, it was probably the most palpable thing about him.

Braxton takes a long drag, looks out at the city, and exhales. A cloud of smoke dances in front of him, but it doesn't sing like everything earlier in the night did. The ecstasy must be wearing off.

He drops his arm around his knee, smoke billowing from the cigarette. "I don't smoke, either."

I just nod.

"Only when I'm drunk." He cocks his head sideways with a smile that's starting to do somethingto me. "Or, you know, when I'm fucked the hell up. It helps me wind down."

"I see." I hold out my hand, and he obliges, passing me the cigarette. I raise the cancer stick to my mouth and inhale. It hits harder than I expected, forcing a ragged cough from the back of my throat. Braxton grabs the cigarette back before I can drop it as I continue coughing, pounding my chest in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

"Another first?" Braxton chuckles and takes another drag. "I'm starting to think I'm corrupting you."

"Nonsense," I say, followed immediately by another hoarse cough.

But, uh... yeah, he's right. I've had a lot of firsts tonight. I'm pretty damn sure this entire night is the very definition of corruption, not that I'm complaining.

I kick my feet out to stretch my restless legs. They dance against the railing of the balcony. "Do you do this all the time?"

He raises a curious brow. "Party."

"Lose control."